14. Chapter 14

The next day, Thanh— the Ticos' plump, enormous, absolute unit of a fish owl— soars into the Great Hall during breakfast, dropping a parcel into Rose's lap. Rose pulls out a tiny scarlet box, cancels the Shrinking Charm that had been placed on it, and levitates it over to the Gryffindor table in its original size before inspecting the rest of her goodies.

Finn eagerly grabs the box with both hands. It's a package of sweets and there's a brief but cheerful note taped onto it that's addressed to him and Rey, from Rose's parents. There are sugar quills and exploding bonbons and pepper imps, and chocolate frogs and blood-flavored lollipops and fizzing whizbees and—

"Kẹo sìu châu!" Finn cries happily, pocketing the bag of cube-shaped candies made from sesame seeds, peanuts, and malt. "Love my in-laws." He hands the slim bundle of sugar quills to Rey without her having to ask; they're her tooth-rotting favorite.

All in all, it's shaping up to be a good day.

"Mum and Dad sent you something else," Rose says to Rey as they head to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "I'll give it to you later, after Potions."

"What is it?" Rey asks, intrigued.

Rose's dark eyes twinkle. "Later," she stresses. "It's a surprise."

While Rey is both curious and excited to find out what else had arrived by owl post, all of her attention is immediately focused on Professor Solo when he enters the classroom a few minutes after the students have settled down. She is shocked by his appearance; his hair is actually unkempt, the bruises under his eyes more pronounced.

Had he looked like this yesterday, in the library?

His bleak gaze flickers over to her. Even as her heart thunders in an equine gallop, she doesn't look away.

And, for a short while, neither does he.

It lasts only three seconds— maybe four— before he has to start the class, but that brief moment in time wherein his eyes hold hers is so charged that her breathing turns shallow. Perspiration dampens her palms.

He wants her.

All she has to do is say yes.

Today's lecture is on curse identification. Various methods to diagnose the injured who aren't familiar with the spell that hit them or who otherwise can't speak. Rey does her best to listen as Solo launches into a rundown of the most commonly used Dark curses and the effects to watch out for, but the sugar quills in her book bag are haunting her. After an hour has passed, she can no longer resist their siren song.

Most of her teachers frown on eating during class; she has no reason to suspect that Solo would be any different. But that's where the beauty of the sugar quill resides; it looks like a perfectly normal quill and one can even write with it— there have been times in the past when Rey had forgotten she'd done so and ended up chewing on the ink-dipped nib.

But she'll take care not to do that today. She can't talk to Solo after class with black stains on her teeth.

Rey waits until her professor has called on one of her classmates seated on the opposite side of the room. Once his attention is elsewhere, she surreptitiously swpas out her regular quill for one of the candies from the slim bundle. When he resumes lecturing, it's not long before she's putting the tip of the crystallized sugar feather into her mouth, giving off the impression that she's merely sucking on her quill as she assesses what to note down on her scrap of parchment.

It's an age-old trick among Hogwarts students. But, of course, Rey can never truly restrain herself when it comes to sugar quills. Her tongue swirls across the tapered end, licking at the sweet, grainy surface, flecks of it melting smoothly into her mouth. Her lips wrap around as much of the feather as they can take, drawing in more of that irresistibly saccharine flavor, bit by bit...

She's so swept up that it takes her a while to register that a dead silence has fallen over the classroom. When she looks up from her notes, it's to find that Professor Solo has stopped talking.

And he's staring directly at her as he leans against the front of his desk, one hand in his pocket, his jaw slack.

The other seventh years are already starting to glance around to see what's caused their instructor to lose his trail of thought. Rey quickly pops the sugar quill out of her mouth, hoping against hope that she won't be chastised for eating in class. Everyone already makes fun of her insatiable appetite as it is.

Thankfully, Solo gives her a pass, swiftly looking away from her. "As I was saying..."

Not wanting to push her luck, Rey abstains from sucking on the sugar quill again. At the end of the class, she tells Finn and Rose that she has some questions about the homework they've been assigned; once they've gone ahead— once she's made sure that the hallway is deserted— she turns to face Professor Solo, her eyes fixed on him as she closes the door and locks it behind her with a clicking sound that seems so irrevocable, that seems to echo in the stillness.

He's standing by his desk, shoulders stooped, packing away his things. As slowly and as methodically as always, like he's delaying the inevitable. She walks over to him, waits quietly beside him, her hands behind her back.

Studying his sharp profile, she notices that his characteristic pallor is absent. In fact, he's a little red in the face. The castle's automated heating charms have kicked in, in earnest, now that it's winter, but it usually takes a week for all the magic to adjust to a suitable temperature. As such, the D.A.D.A. classroom borders on uncomfortably warm territory, which is why Rey had discarded her outer robes before lecture began. Solo, meanwhile, had elected to keep his suit jacket on— no wonder he appears to be overheated.

"Sir?" she prompts after the silence has stretched on for far too long. "I've made my decision."

His dark brown eyes dart to her, then back to his task. His lips press together, a muscle working at his jaw. And, as big as he is, he seems to hunch in on himself even further, like he's trying to be as small as possible.

Ludicrously, she's reminded of a little boy waiting to be scolded. The thought almost makes her laugh, but she sobers up as soon as it occurs to her that he's nervous.

That she is making him nervous, for once.

It's... oddly satisfying. She's tempted to draw it out, but she's immediately repulsed at herself for even contemplating such a thing.

This isn't a game. The earnest way he'd spoken in the library, the way she feels when she's around him— none of these things make it feasible to play around the way her schoolmates do with one another.

But neither does she have any idea what to actually say to him.

Yes, I would like to have an affair with you is ridiculously formal.

Yes, I'll let you shag me six ways to Sunday is less formal, but somehow infinitely worse.

After mulling it over for a few more seconds while he continues to very unhelpfully pack his bag—

"I know a place," Rey blurts out. "It's top secret— one of the hidden rooms in the castle. I can meet you there after curfew most nights, except when I'm swamped with homework—"

Solo moves so fast that Rey very nearly doesn't even realize he's grabbed her— one hand at the small of her back, the other at the back of her neck— until he's pressed his lips to hers.

It's a kiss that steals the breath from her lungs as usual, that makes her see stars as usual, but it ends as abruptly as it had begun, with him pulling away to narrow his eyes at her.

His eyes right now— bloody hell, she could gasp from the way they burn.

"I've made a decision, too," he snarls. "You're no longer allowed to fucking suck on sugar quills while I'm lecturing."

Her mouth drops open as she puts two and two together. All this time she'd assumed that he simply didn't like students eating in class, but now... well...

She can't believe she'd managed to rattle him like that.

But still—

"I'm not sorry," Rey says with a boldness she hadn't known she was capable of, and Solo's eyes darken and he kisses her again.

A fierce and altogether too delicious kind of punishment, so dizzying that her knees give way.

He holds her up effortlessly, curving an arm behind her waist and then shuffling them around so that the edge of the desk digs into her rump. He plies her with even more of those intoxicating kisses, pushing her down until she's practically laying on the surface of the large wooden table, with him standing between her spread legs, bending over her and feasting on her mouth. She wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, and his hands are everywhere— squeezing her breasts through her blouse, palming her bare thighs above her faded old knee socks.

It goes on forever and, at the same time, not for long enough.

"Have you got somewhere to be?" he asks after one last peck, his breath hot against her cheek. His cock hard against her stomach.

"Just— just lunch, and then Potions," she answers in a faltering rush, trying to catch her breath.

"Right." Solo mouths at the pulse point on her neck. "Give me thirty minutes."

"What for?"

He nips at the column of her throat, eliciting a squeak from her. "You'll see."

And he slowly works his way down.

Their frantic movements just a few moments ago had caused her blouse to ride up almost to her chest. Without missing a beat, he places damp, lingering kisses all over her exposed stomach; her abdominal muscles quiver at every touch of his lips, and she feels him smile against her skin.

And then he's— oh— he's drifting lower, kissing the inside of her thigh as his large fingers hike up the folds of her pleated skirt...

"Wait!" Rey props herself up on her elbows, staring at him in something like horror. She doesn't shave or trim or any of that— there's never been a reason to— and she's heard more than a few male schoolmates hoot that girls smell funny down there.

Solo stops at once, blinking. "You don't like it when—"

"It's not that," she interrupts, blushing furiously. "I just—" She doesn't want to get into a discussion about personal grooming and... odors right now; in her haste to cover up she unearths another truth. "I don't know if I'll like it, I've never..."

She trails off, because he looks angry.

"No one ever did this for you?" he demands.

It's her turn to blink. "I already told you I don't do this sort of thing. In the forest, that was— that was my first kiss—"

It's so fascinating, how incredibly readable his face is without the benefit of Occlumency.

It's so thrilling, the guilt-tinged, wolfish kind of excitement that shadows his features at her confession.

He turns his head slightly in order to gently suck a bruise into her inner thigh, maintaining eye contact with her all the while. A fresh surge of arousal trickles into her already damp underwear and she doesn't think she'll ever be able to get it out of her mind, the contrast of his kiss-swollen red lips against her delicate, freckled skin.

Rey's head falls back against the desk as Solo gradually peppers more of those violently tender kisses up her thigh. She's so lost in the sensation that she doesn't protest when he starts to roll her knickers down her hips; despite her insecurities, she whines when he stops mere inches from where she suddenly needs that sinful mouth to be— but it's only so that he can slide her underwear all the way down and he's quick to return where he left off, nibbling and licking as he slips her soaked, white cotton knickers into his pocket.

"So wet," he murmurs. Those great big hands of his coaxing her thighs apart. One long, thick finger skimming her entrance lightly. "Always so wet for me."

She moans— whether in agreement or in embarrassment or at his touch or a combination of all three, she can't quite tell, and when he speaks again his voice all but cracks with yearning. "Look at this pretty little pussy. So pink and soft, and dripping all over my desk."

The words are hushed, their timbre hypnotic. Rey has a bad case of the full-body shivers now. It only gets worse when Solo adds, "And to think that no one's ever kissed it—"

The tip of his finger nudges inside. Just barely. Not enough. Never enough. Her hips cant in a vain attempt to take it deeper.

She's frustrated enough to goad him. To play on what she's starting to realize is his weakness. "No one," she affirms, throwing all shyness to the wind. "Not until you, sir."

Professor Solo's eyes blazing with a dark possessiveness are the last thing that Rey sees of his face before he buries it between her thighs.

At the first touch of those pillowy lips on her sex, a hoarse shout is torn loose from her throat. She can't help it, the sensation is of such electrifying pleasure that if she doesn't vocalize she'll die.

It's very, very loud.

She claps a hand over her mouth.

Solo is... unperturbed, for the most part. He doesn't stop what he's doing, but he does fish his blackthorn wand out of the inner lining of his suit jacket, waving it languidly in the direction of the walls. "Silencio totalis," he rumbles against her cunt, and each syllable of the incantation vibrates through her core at the same time that she feels the air resonate with magic, wrapping the classroom in an invisible field that traps all sound within.

It makes her blood sing.

Her eyes flutter shut and her spine arches off of the table surface as Solo kisses her cunt the way he kisses her mouth. His tongue lapping at and rolling against. His lips gliding slickly. With the containment spell in place, she's free to be as loud as she likes, each moan and gasp so foreignly wanton to her own ears. It feels so good that it's almost painful. It feels like she's being worshiped, like she's actually beautiful. She grinds her hips against his clever mouth and twists her fingers into his lush black hair and she's alive with it, there could be nothing else but this.

It's a good thing that there are no windows facing the corridor. If there were, and if someone were to look inside, they'd see her getting eaten out by her professor on his desk.

The thought shouldn't intrigue her as much as it does. There shouldn't be a part of her that's enjoying how wrong this is.

Maybe she's not such a good girl, after all.

His hands slide under her buttocks, lifting them a little ways off the desk, maneuvering her so he can get a better angle— and she almost wishes that he hadn't, because his tongue delves inside her and the tip of his nose nuzzles at her clit and this shouldn't be allowed, how do people get anything done when sex can be like this, she's in heaven and it terrifies her, she's babbling nonsense, carrying on with yes and there and feels so good, sir, you're going to make me come, professor, her hips bucking and her legs flailing as they dangle over his broad shoulders, her right hand flying up to tug at her nipples through her blouse in a mindless bid for more sensation, more, more, more—

"That's it, baby," Ben Solo growls, and what's left of Rey's synapses misfire all at once and, fucking hell, maybe she does have an American accent kink. "Play with your pretty tits while you fuck my mouth— want you to come with my tongue on your clit— think you can do that for me, Miss Niima?"

Each gloriously filthy word echoes through her like the silencing incantation had earlier. There it is again, the desire— the instinct to please. "Yes, sir," she moans, both hands now frantically clawing at her own breasts, each sharp pinprick of sensation running in fine counterpoint to the steady rhythm of his mouth between her legs. "I'll be good, sir, I'll come any way you want me to—"

"God, Rey," he groans, a hitch in his throat. Glancing down at him, she can see that he's closed his eyes even as he nuzzles deeper against her, into her. "You'll be the end of me."

When Solo's tongue hones in on her clit at the same time that he slides two fingers into her— two that she's wet enough to take in a single stroke, with only minimal resistance— Rey immediately knows that she's not going to last much longer. Several deft, velvety flicks that make her sob out loud as he stretches her out, and then he's taking the little bundle of nerves between his lips, sucking gently and pumping his fingers inside her until her vision whites out at the edges, and with one final swirl of his tongue over her clit—

— she breaks.

Harder than she's ever had in the past.

Perhaps harder than she ever will again, although she hopes not, hopes that these heights will continue to be reached.

She comes with something that's very nearly a scream, her toes curling. Her body writhing. It builds and it builds, like tremors and then earthquake. Like event horizon.

He's ruined her for anyone else.

Although he has for sure felt and heard her orgasm— although she has for sure drenched his fingers and the lower half of his face— he doesn't stop licking away at her, guiding her firmly through each rolling wave until she winces from overstimulation.

It's only then that he surfaces, moving upward again and sliding his tongue into her already parted mouth.

Letting her taste herself.

Sharing this with her.

She can do nothing but return his kiss weakly. Her brain has turned to mush. She's floating.

In a daze, she slowly starts to lift her arms, planning to wrap them around him in an embrace that will hopefully be reciprocated, but he straightens up just as her fingers are about to touch his sleeve.

Ugh.

Well, she'll get him another time.

"I'm keeping these, by the way," he announces. At her confused expression, he pats the pocket he'd shoved her underwear into. There's a wicked glint in his dark eyes. "I'll give them back later tonight. When we meet at the room you mentioned."

Rey slides off the desk and onto her feet, although her knees are so wobbly that she has to clutch the edge of the table for support. She grasps for coherence, her mind still mostly fogged up by afterglow. "You... you want me to go about the rest of the day without my knickers?"

A hint of a smile twitches at the corner of Solo's lips as he tucks her blouse back into the waistband of her skirt. "Say knickers again."

Infuriating man.